He looks down at me and scoffs, “What do you call this? Jeez Gemma. Sometimes I wonder about you.”
I shove at him playfully and he laughs. Then, we keep walking down the icy cold streets of the city. As friends.
In two days, I’m having my transfer, and maybe, maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll get pregnant. But right now, all I need to worry about is finding a slice of pizza, and ice cream for dessert.
21
The scene at the doctor’s office is almost déjà vu. Once again the nurse called to remind me to have a very full bladder. So, on the way I chugged a bottle of water and a decaf latte. Now, once again I’m crossing my legs, feeling like if I don’t pee soon I’m going to explode.
So, all that’s the same.
But there’s one huge, massive difference.
I look at the seat next to mine.
Josh is here.
Before, I was alone. This time, Josh is here.
He’s drumming his fingers on his leg, but when he senses me looking at him he turns to me and gives me a weak smile.
“How you doing?”
“Good,” I say. I cross my legs the other way and shift in my chair. Unfortunately, I’ve been giving myself progesterone shots in the butt for the past five days and my cheeks are welt-ridden and bruised and sitting is majorly uncomfortable.
“Nervous?” Josh asks.
I shake my head. “No.” I squirm a little more.
He swallows and nods. “Me neither.”
“Uh huh.”
He goes back to drumming his fingers on his leg.
Jeez. This moment feels as awkward as Dr. Ingraham’s fictional high school dance.
It’s Saturday morning and we’re in the waiting room, about to be called back for my transfer. You know, that moment when Josh’s sperm and my egg, the day five embryo, gets placed inside my uterus.
It feels like we’re about to have sex for the first time （again）， except…not.
I take another quick look at Josh, then look back ahead at the spot on the wall where the Georgia O’Keeffe painting used to hang. He’s still drumming his fingers nervously.
I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my thighs together.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, trying to break the awkward tension that has sprouted between us ever since we walked in this morning.
“Of course.” Josh shrugs. Then he clears his throat and goes quiet.
Okay, this is ridiculous.
Josh Lewenthal is never quiet.
This moment is more awkward than teenage boners and training bras. The only way to stop the awkwardness is to pop it like a balloon.
“So. Since I’m about to be impregnated, you wanna give me some dirty talk?”
Josh coughs and then straightens in his chair. “Excuse me?”
I cross my legs, “I mean, since this feels as awkward as having sex for the first time—”
“Wait. You thought it was awkward?” he interrupts. There’s a genuinely surprised expression on his face.
“Umm. Really?”
He gives me an affronted look. “What was wrong with it?”
I stare at him in shock. He wants to talk about this now? “Well, uh…it was on the garage floor.”
“Yeah,” he says, and he sounds like he’s reliving a particularly pleasant memory. I jab him with my elbow.
“It was hard and cold,” I say. Except, honestly, I barely remember the floor, all I can really remember is his mouth and his hands and how he groaned my name. I shake out of the thought.
“Was it?” he asks.
I flush, because his voice has that low, deep reverberation that makes my insides quiver. I try to get back to my point.
“There was lime Jell-O all over me. That was awkward.” When I was cleaning up I’d accidently spilled a bowl on my shirt, it was sticky and wet and— “Mmmm,” he says. “I remember. You like lime Jell-O.”
Wow.
I feel a little hot, and a little bothered that his eyelids are lowered and he looks like he’s envisioning making love to me again. A picture of us on the floor, naked, rolling in lime Jell-O flashes in my mind.
What the…
I cough into my hand and my bladder pinches in protest. “Yeah, no.”
Josh looks over at me with a mock-affronted expression. “So that’s why you never looked at me again. It was awkward.” He says “awkward” with a heavy emphasis.
I scoff and shift in my seat again. My bum is really sore, and jeez, can’t they call us back already so I can go pee?
I blow out a breath, and just in case Josh actually feels upset I say, “It wasn’t terrible.”